Main About Archive Contact My Neighborhood 4100 Bar Brite Spot Cafe Cafe Stella Casbah Cafe Capilla De Rosario Cliff's Edge The Drawing Room The Dresden Edendale Grill El Sid Intelligentsia Pazzo Gelato The Rustic Inn Silver Lake Tiki Ti The Vista Theater Von's Hollywood Los Angeles Amoeba Music The ArcLight The Bat Caves The Beverly Hilton The Biltmore The Brewery Canter's Casa Del Mar Chinatown Crime Tour Descanso Gardens The Dodgers Downtown Walking Tour The El Rey Farmer's Market (The Grove) French 75 The Getty The Getty Villa Griffith Park Griffith Park Observatory Hollywood and Highland The Hollywood Bowl Hollywood Farmer's Market Hsi Lai Temple The Huntington La Brea Tar Pits The L.A. (Half) Marathon The Lakers LAX Little Tokyo The Metro Movie in the Graveyard A One Man Play Pauley Pavilion The Pantages Rodeo Drive San Antonio Winery Santa Monica Pier Sardo's Shakespeare in the Graveyard Simon Wiesanthal Center Universal City Venice The Viper Room Watts Towers The Wiltern California The Angels Big Bear Big Sur Bodega Bay Carmel Catalina Channel Islands National Park Death Valley The Golden Gate Bridge Hearst Castle Joshua Tree National Park Lassen Volcanic National Park The Madonna Inn Mission San Juan Capistrano Monterey Morro Bay Pismo Beach Lake Tahoe Laguna Beach Mt.Shasta Mt. Whitney Napa/Sonoma Ojai The Pacific The Padres Pageant of the Masters Pinnacles National Monument Redwood National Park Roadtrip to Vegas San Diego San Francisco Santa Barbara Santa Cruz Santa Ynez Valley Sequoia National Parks Temecula Yosemite National Park |
I endorse the pineapple
Jan. 12th, 2008 | 10:10 pm
My grandmother always lamented her bad luck, saying, "I wouldn't win a dead horse in a raffle."
She lived to be 94, outliving her 13 brothers and sisters, and died peacefully at home when the time came.
I don't think that's particularly bad luck, in fact I think even she would say she was pretty damned blessed.
But when it comes to contests and drawings and the lottery and Vegas and Chinese gift exchanges, I
definitely take after my grandmother.
Still, I set out for Vons Hollywood with dollar signs in my eyes.
Well, to be more exact, tiny iPods in my eyes.
I received an invitation in the mail announcing the grand re-opening of the Vons grocery store, a uniquely
Californian chain, at Sunset and Virgil. The flyer promised that I would "experience the very best of Vons
through a delicious journey of free food tastings throughout the store." As a bonus, shoppers would get
10% off their purchases.
I'm always up for a delicious journey of free food and a discounted grocery bill, however, I had insider
information that there would be valuable prizes as well. A week earlier on an early morning run, I noticed
that the store, my neighborhood store, had recently undergone a facelift. Later that day, instead of my usual
jaunt to the Gelsons/Trader Joe's combo on Hyperion consistently crowded with hipsters in Volvos, I
decided to try my very own, closer-to-home, revamped Vons.
For starters, the sign on the building didn't just
say VONS anymore... it said VONS HOLLYWOOD.
Add the word "Hollywood" to anything and it
immediately gives it panache. Would you buy
thong underwear and push-up bras from a guy
called Fred? No! But Fredericks of Hollywood?
Yes indeed! Sure, technically it's East Hollywood,
but what's geography?
Upon entering with my easy-roll cart, I was
embraced with soft lighting and mood music,
sound muffling tiles, and gorgeous stacks of foods.
I had to remark to an employee in the bakery where there's an entire aisle of nothing but tortillas, "Wow, this
is really a great store!"
She was thilled with my remark and told me that they were still putting some finishing touches on the place.
"Come back next Saturday for the official opening," she whispered to me. "We're giving away iPods! A few
hundred of them, at least!"
She went on to tell me that iPods would be given away at the check-out, completely randomly, when
customers swiped their Vons Club cards.
So the next Saturday, I was there.
O the free deliciousness of my journey: First there were salad greens with a delightful vinaigrette and fresh
pineapple in the produce section, mini sloppy joes and sauteed salmon in the meats, chocolate cookies
infused with pecan pie in the bakery, tuscan tomato soup and little baguette sandwiches of prosciutto and
provolone in the deli, and somewhat randomly, popcorn in the frozen foods.
My personal pig tour (and grocery shopping) was peppered with announcements from the P.A. system
from the store manager who was very pumped for his housewarming:
"We have another iPod winner at register 10!" Or "Shoppers, don't forget to make your way over to produce
to try the pineapple! I endorse the pineapple!"
The manager was taking the whole Hollywood thing a bit too far.
And then there was this announcement from him:
"Staff, convene to the floral department for a service huddle. Please be obsequious to this request and
show a sense of alacrity."
Five minutes later, another announcement from him: "Alacrity means swiftness or briskness."
Clearly, he loves his job. I'm sure people rolled their eyes at his vocabulary display, but I enjoyed it. Where
else can you hear the word "obsequious" broadcasted loud and clear while you're deciding on flavors of
Buy-One-Get-One-Free Activia yogurt.
I kept track of the registers that had frequent iPod winners as I walked up and down the aisles. My strategy
would be to divide up my purchases into three or four batches, to increase my card swiping and therefore,
increase my odds of going home with an iPod or two.
I chose Aisle 6. They hadn't had a winner in a while. I told the cashier Lola my strategy and she was happy
to help. I felt like she wanted me to win. She told me that they had over 700 to give away and if we divided
up my near-full cart into several transactions, I'd surely win one.
Luckily no one was waiting behind me. We did eleven separate transactions. I swiped my card eleven
times. Each time, we would hold our breath and then frustratingly exhale, in unison.
Lola was let down, and so was I. When my last purchase was complete, she suggested I go over to the
Service Counter and ask them to scan the card a few times, because there's actually no purchase
necessary. I happily pushed my cart of bagged groceries over there-- a win's a win, and I wanted to win.
The man at the service desk was happy to give my card five or six more swipes, but to no avail. I left the
store disappointed and consoled myself with the barbecued chicken they were handing out at a grill in the
parking lot.
No iPod, and no dead horse either.
But for the remainder of my time here, I finally have a neighborhood grocery store.
Comments
Jan. 12th, 2008 | 10:10 pm
My grandmother always lamented her bad luck, saying, "I wouldn't win a dead horse in a raffle."
She lived to be 94, outliving her 13 brothers and sisters, and died peacefully at home when the time came.
I don't think that's particularly bad luck, in fact I think even she would say she was pretty damned blessed.
But when it comes to contests and drawings and the lottery and Vegas and Chinese gift exchanges, I
definitely take after my grandmother.
Still, I set out for Vons Hollywood with dollar signs in my eyes.
Well, to be more exact, tiny iPods in my eyes.
I received an invitation in the mail announcing the grand re-opening of the Vons grocery store, a uniquely
Californian chain, at Sunset and Virgil. The flyer promised that I would "experience the very best of Vons
through a delicious journey of free food tastings throughout the store." As a bonus, shoppers would get
10% off their purchases.
I'm always up for a delicious journey of free food and a discounted grocery bill, however, I had insider
information that there would be valuable prizes as well. A week earlier on an early morning run, I noticed
that the store, my neighborhood store, had recently undergone a facelift. Later that day, instead of my usual
jaunt to the Gelsons/Trader Joe's combo on Hyperion consistently crowded with hipsters in Volvos, I
decided to try my very own, closer-to-home, revamped Vons.
For starters, the sign on the building didn't just
say VONS anymore... it said VONS HOLLYWOOD.
Add the word "Hollywood" to anything and it
immediately gives it panache. Would you buy
thong underwear and push-up bras from a guy
called Fred? No! But Fredericks of Hollywood?
Yes indeed! Sure, technically it's East Hollywood,
but what's geography?
Upon entering with my easy-roll cart, I was
embraced with soft lighting and mood music,
sound muffling tiles, and gorgeous stacks of foods.
I had to remark to an employee in the bakery where there's an entire aisle of nothing but tortillas, "Wow, this
is really a great store!"
She was thilled with my remark and told me that they were still putting some finishing touches on the place.
"Come back next Saturday for the official opening," she whispered to me. "We're giving away iPods! A few
hundred of them, at least!"
She went on to tell me that iPods would be given away at the check-out, completely randomly, when
customers swiped their Vons Club cards.
So the next Saturday, I was there.
O the free deliciousness of my journey: First there were salad greens with a delightful vinaigrette and fresh
pineapple in the produce section, mini sloppy joes and sauteed salmon in the meats, chocolate cookies
infused with pecan pie in the bakery, tuscan tomato soup and little baguette sandwiches of prosciutto and
provolone in the deli, and somewhat randomly, popcorn in the frozen foods.
My personal pig tour (and grocery shopping) was peppered with announcements from the P.A. system
from the store manager who was very pumped for his housewarming:
"We have another iPod winner at register 10!" Or "Shoppers, don't forget to make your way over to produce
to try the pineapple! I endorse the pineapple!"
The manager was taking the whole Hollywood thing a bit too far.
And then there was this announcement from him:
"Staff, convene to the floral department for a service huddle. Please be obsequious to this request and
show a sense of alacrity."
Five minutes later, another announcement from him: "Alacrity means swiftness or briskness."
Clearly, he loves his job. I'm sure people rolled their eyes at his vocabulary display, but I enjoyed it. Where
else can you hear the word "obsequious" broadcasted loud and clear while you're deciding on flavors of
Buy-One-Get-One-Free Activia yogurt.
I kept track of the registers that had frequent iPod winners as I walked up and down the aisles. My strategy
would be to divide up my purchases into three or four batches, to increase my card swiping and therefore,
increase my odds of going home with an iPod or two.
I chose Aisle 6. They hadn't had a winner in a while. I told the cashier Lola my strategy and she was happy
to help. I felt like she wanted me to win. She told me that they had over 700 to give away and if we divided
up my near-full cart into several transactions, I'd surely win one.
Luckily no one was waiting behind me. We did eleven separate transactions. I swiped my card eleven
times. Each time, we would hold our breath and then frustratingly exhale, in unison.
Lola was let down, and so was I. When my last purchase was complete, she suggested I go over to the
Service Counter and ask them to scan the card a few times, because there's actually no purchase
necessary. I happily pushed my cart of bagged groceries over there-- a win's a win, and I wanted to win.
The man at the service desk was happy to give my card five or six more swipes, but to no avail. I left the
store disappointed and consoled myself with the barbecued chicken they were handing out at a grill in the
parking lot.
No iPod, and no dead horse either.
But for the remainder of my time here, I finally have a neighborhood grocery store.
Comments
